What Pride Has Wrought
by Moonflower04
Summary: Tywin Lannister is nothing short of cold, cunning and calculated, but of all things he knows how to put duty first. So when Tyrion refuses to marry Sansa, Tywin devises a plan to trick Tyrion into taking up basic family responsibility. Little did Lord Tywin know that trying to out maneuver your brightest son can backfire.
1. Confrontation

**[A/N]: Hello everyone! So, I original posted this story on another side account, Rose From the Ashes, and now I can't remember the password to it or the password to the email address, so I'm officially locked out. I decided to post this story again, but this time on my main FF account instead. The other 'What Pride Has Wrought' will not be updated ever again I'm afraid, and unfortunately I can't deleted it.**

**But I hope you enjoy this story being posted again and I have new updates that will ensue.**

* * *

"You will do your duty as a Lannister and marry her. I will not hear another word of the matter." Tywin commanded, his voice staying level yet enforcing his authority. "She is your reward, the reward you so gallantly demanded of me. Sansa Stark is more than you deserve. Now leave me." Tyrion watched as his father's eyes drifted off him and back to the meager stack of parchment upon his desk.

Tyrion wasn't going to permit his father to whisk him away so easily. He leaned forward in his chair, allowing the aged wood to creak and disturb his father's silence. "I will not marry and rape a young girl. Cersei is at least marrying a man of age but Sansa Stark, she is nothing more than a child."

Tywin leaned forward in his chair, his eyes angrily adhered to his paper work. "As I said to you and Cersei both, the girl's happiness is of little concern to me. What I need is someone to replace Lord Bolton once he has served his time as Warden of the North."

"All you need is for her to produce a Lannister heir and then what, we live the rest of our lives in humiliation and misery? Or will you have her tossed away?" Tyrion commented, dryly.

"She will remain as long as I see there is a use for her."

"The poor girl has been through so much, starting with her betrothal to Joffrey and let's not forget the execution of her father, Ned Stark. And if you aren't aware we are also waging war on her brother Robb. Now you want her to marry me? 'The Imp,' as you call me. Will you ever spare this girl of public humiliation and embarrassment? I can guarantee that once she marries me she will become the laughing stock of King's Landing." Tyrion looked down, not even realizing he had been gripping the the arms of his chair so tightly he could see the whites of his knuckles. "I will not marry her."

Slowly, Tywin's eyes rose again to battle his son's gaze once more. "As my son, you will do your duty." His voice reaching a low and threatening octave.

"You speak of duty father, yet here you are with three children you consider 'dysfunctional disappointments' and an uncontrollable grandson wreaking havoc on the throne. Not to mention that three of the seven kingdoms are in open rebellion. I think that is a clear statement of your ability to handle duty and family." Tyrion stated between sips of red wine. He was reveling in the livid expression his father was rewarding him with. He could always tell when Tywin was most upset, it was all in the way his jaw clenched. Tyrion took it as a sign to continue.

"If you have forgotten, I was married once before. As was yourself, if I recall correctly. Yet, here you are still a bitter, old widower. Why is it I have to remarry again? You surely never did, and I think I would prefer to follow in your footsteps, you should be so proud." He finished – his words sounding petulant.

The look his father shot him was nothing short of murderous, but it was the reaction Tyrion had certainly wanted to arouse.

"I have sold my life to this family and you three slander our name by all the sick and vile rumors that surround you now. Because of you three and you three alone, our family is becoming a name of disgrace once again." Tywin stood up and slowly made his way in front of his desk.

"You killed my wife and I have had to raise my wife's murderer as my son. I think that warrants me the right to be bitter." His face was dead serious. "And how dare you speak of marriage. You married a whore, there is a distinct difference between a woman of station, like your mother and Sansa, and a mere tavern wench." His father fought back, his tone as cutting as any blade. "I let you live, and this is how you repay me? I should have let the waves wash you away the moment I could."

Finally now Tyrion was beginning to feel anger bubbling up inside himself. Every time his father mentioned how he could have killed him, he truly began to understand his father's true feelings more thoroughly. He was nothing more than a vile, ill-breed creature to him. He had always understood there would always be some residual contempt for him, but his father was hardly ever so blatant and barbarous about it before.

"I will not let that Stark girl fall into the wrong hands." His father drawled on. "That boy Loras Tyrell will not have her hand. That's why Cersei will marry him. Nor will I let that rat Lord Baelish get the Key to the North."

"Baelish? Isn't he promising himself to Lady Arryn of the Vale? How could he be a threat?" Tyrion questioned his father.

Tywin's frowned only deepened at the question. "I heard rumors that Baelish fancies Sansa Stark and no obstacle has ever stopped Baelish from getting what he wants."

"Except Ned Stark, he stopped Baelish from marrying Lady Stark. Ned seemed to have thwarted Lord Baelish long enough." Tyrion pointed out.

"Look how that turned out for him, he was beheaded." Tywin countered. "The point of this arrangement is Sansa Stark is the Key to the North and the only true Stark heir there is left, as Robb will be dead soon and the two other Stark boys were killed by that young Greyjoy. This means a Lannister must marry her and secure the North." Tywin looked straight at Tyrion with a very spiteful gaze.

"I will not marry her." Tyrion repeated once more, simply to irritate his father one last time.

The eyes of his father were always unsettling, but while trying to challenge his father's stare there was a certain flash in his eyes. One that he recognized all too well; there was a severe plan brewing in Tywin Lannister's mind. Quickly, Tyrion took another sip of wine hoping to ready himself for what his father was about to unleash.

"You have never taken your duty to this family seriously, where I always have. If you will not marry the Stark girl – I will."

Tyrion felt his body lurch involuntarily, finding himself spitting a mouthful of wine onto the stone floor. He narrowly missed his father's boots.

"What?" Tyrion stated shocked, while wiping the remaining wine from his mouth.

"The gods gave you ears, I suggest you use them. I believe you heard me correctly." Tywin muttered.

Tyrion found himself blinking a few times, the expression on his face must have mirrored something of shock. "I must have misheard you. Did you just suggest marrying the Stark girl yourself?"

"You are refusing to marry her and you said before you will not put a child in her. One of us must make sure she bores a Lannister child and I don't trust you to get the job done. I will see to it myself. Hopefully she can produce better heirs than you and your siblings, but I can't see it getting much worse."

Tyrion bit his tongue holding back a sharp remark, instead he opted for a slightly more subtle response. "When did you stoop so low and turn into a Walder Frey? Marrying girls only a fraction of your age. Such a thing I would never have expected from my bitter, old father." Tyrion reached around and poured himself another glass of wine. He took another large gulp of wine, still trying to work out what advantage his father had if he married Sansa.

He could hardly think of anything, other than bedding a very young women. He would never admit it to his father, but he was almost jealous. His father had a very small conscience; his father forcing himself on a young girl didn't strike Tyrion as odd if the words 'family duty' were involved. Still this turn of events he could hardly believe.

"I will never be like that honorless, coward Walder Frey." Tywin hissed.

"Though, giving us a child mother-in-law does seem like a deed only Walder Frey would commit, does it not?"

"It is a duty to the family, a duty you refuse to take up." Tywin shot Tyrion another dark and forbidding look.

"This is not a better solution, Father! You are cold and cruel at best, Sansa doesn't deserve to be attached to such treatment." He grimaced.

Tywin slammed his hand of the table in outrage. "I will not be belittled by my own son!"

Tyrion looked at his father and he felt unapologetic. "That has been your personality for years and you know it yourself."

"I will say it once more, the girl's happiness is none of my concern."

Tyrion felt his hand clench around the stem of the goblet in his hand. "Even if she was your wife, you would care nothing for her feelings?"

Tywin looked down on him with steely, expressionless eyes. "No," he replied without an ounce of hesitation. His father looked even more like the very callous and cunning man that had conquered the Seven Kingdoms as his sharp gaze passed through Tyrion.

"You still don't want to marry the Stark girl? Not even to save her from the misery you're sure I will bestow upon her?" Tywin was now trying his best to torture him, taking violent stabs at his sense of humanity.

Tyrion just stared at his father, not sure what to say. Of course he thought Sansa was a stunning beauty, but she was a child. She couldn't be more than sixteen, and to Tyrion marrying her seemed like a crime. He would ruin her life and never before had she given him a reason to think she approved of him.

Though the thought of his father wedding her seemed wrong and Sansa would not be pleased.

"I-I don't know." Tyrion stuttered, trying his best to shield his pride.

His father granted him one last smug and self-gratifying look before turning his back on him. If there was anyone in Westeros that knew how to take test a man it was Tywin Lannister. "I implore you to come visit me tomorrow and tell me what you think about Sansa Stark after some thought."

His father's words were still filled with malice, but at least it was a pardon. Which Tyrion was glad to take advantage of as he hopped out of his chair.

"I have one last deed for you to attend to Tyrion, do break the news to Sansa Stark of this new arrangement, and do tell her the whole truth. How your incessant whining to not marry her placed her in this situation and that it is only you who can change this decision."

* * *

**[A/N]: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please any feedback is appreciated, this is my first attempt at writing again in two years. The next chapter will be out tomorrow and features a discussion between Tywin and Cersei. Thank you for reading!**


	2. Accusations

"Father." Cersei invited herself into his study, Tywin noted her steps carried a certain urgency in them and he could already guess why. He looked up from his writing to meet Cersei's calculated gaze. She was wearing a stereotypical red dress with accents of gold; she did take pride in wearing the Lannister colors. If only she could start acting like a Lannister, then he might have been pleased by her palette choice.

"You better not have simply come here to try and talk your way out of marrying Ser Loras," Lord Tywin grumbled. That topic was the only thing that came out of his daughter's mouth as of late. "I've heard enough complaints in one day to last the rest of my damn life."

Cersei gave him an unsavory look before she spoke. "I've come to terms with my wedding to Loras Tyrell," Cersei snapped. She was trying her best to not act like the manipulative woman she often was. "Unlike my brothers I realize the importance of family duty."

"I see." Tywin said briskly, knowing full well that Cersei was selfish and only cared about her own well being, not the families. He was certain she would devise a plan to weasel her way out of marrying Ser Loras, but obviously she was lacking inspiration at the moment.

Still, Tywin refusing to fully acknowledge her presence, he had other matters to attend too, such as arranging an alliance with the Freys, but he also wanted to capture Roose Bolton's attention since he was a confidant with the Young Wolf. Men like Lord Bolton and Walder Frey were easy to please – Roose Bolton was the type of man that could be easily persuaded to switch sides if money and power were involved – and Walder was no different. That old cretin wanted nothing more than to wet his dick with little girls and sully the Tully name.

Tywin heard Cersei pour herself a glass of wine, which meant only one thing. His daughter had something on her mind, something that would upset him. She only drank extra wine to sharpen her tongue. Sure enough in a matter of moments Cersei was already playing her first card.

"What I want to discuss is a fascinating rumor I just heard." Tywin now knew where the conversation was going and already he could feel a fresh headache starting to form behind his left eye. "Are you truly planning to wed Sansa Stark, Father?"

"You heard correct." He stated curtly, before looking back down at his work. He could hardly handle dealing with another annoyance for today, and Cersei was now turning into an annoyance. He kept his attention focused on his letter to Lord Bolton, all the while hoping his daughter would get bored by his lacking responsiveness.

He was pleased when Cersei remained silent for a prolonged period to time, but he knew it wouldn't last, her silence never did. Continuing his writing, Tywin awaited a snide remark from the ferocious Queen Regent.

Finally, the silence he adored so much was broken with an inane question. "Do you think that is wise making a young girl, a Stark none the less, the Lady of Casterly Rock?" Cersei asked bitterly. The Lady of Casterly Rock was a title that Cersei felt would befit no woman, except her mother – Tywin knew that.

The older Lannister raised his head, meeting Cersei's inscrutable gaze. "Do you think I am doing this with without reason?" He responded strictly, his hand tightening around his quill.

He was no imbecile, which was contrary to Cersei's current belief. He knew that holding the North in his hand was absolutely essential. There was no way he could allow those slimy Highgarden snakes to steal Sansa and the North out from under him. No, this plan of action was necessary for lasting peace between the South and the North.

"And what is your brilliant reasoning behind this arrangement?" Cersei asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as a sign of arrogance – her words were nothing short of condescending.

"Tyrion has never once willingly taken any form of responsibility. He may be a selfish little bastard, but he desires the Stark girl. He's just too disgusted with himself to admit it. Desire is the only thing that drives your brother. He will want to be the hero that saves the Stark girl from what he considers a monster like myself," Tywin said with confidence.

He heard Cersei let out a little snort. "A fine point, Father – but is that really enough to drive him to marry her? Desire and lust?" His daughter's skepticism was starting to irritate him. He knew exactly what he was doing, either Tyrion would marry the girl and nothing would be required of him, or he would marry Sansa and get the job done himself.

"From what I have seen, yes. Self-pleasure is the only thing that drives that – creature." Since Tyrion was eighteen that boy has taken a liking to drinking and women. Sansa is a gorgeous young woman, and Tywin was certain that Tyrion wouldn't refuse the offer. "Why do you think he drinks extensively and whores himself around Westeros? It isn't from the bottom of his heart."

Tyrion was always so certain of what he was doing, but for the first yesterday, Tywin had seen doubt flickering in the dwarf's eyes. He'd certainly seen vexation blazing in Tyrion's eyes when he'd, Tywin Lannister, had proposed marrying Sansa himself. Maybe for the first time Tyrion would finally do as his father had commanded and take up family duty.

It was a little devious of him to attempt to willingly push Tyrion into his family responsibilities, but underhanded measures were not out of his skill set. Over the years he'd become quite adept at motivating people through unconventional means.

Cersei's eyes narrowed slightly. "You underestimate him. I have yet to hear of him traveling to a brothel since his return to King's Landing. It might be that he had a whore living with him."

"So I've heard," Tywin seethed. "In my chambers none the less. After I explicitly told him not to bring whores into my bed."

"Still, do you actually believe that Tyrion is changing for the better? Do you really think there isn't a chance he could be selfish and you end up marrying the Stark girl? I wouldn't think that would be a chance you are willing to take," His daughter was giving a sinister smirk.

"If I have to marry the Stark girl, then I know the job will get done. There will be an heir to the North. I will win the North over no matter what," he declared without hesitation. He kept his tone as bland as possible, he didn't need Cersei thinking he was an old lecher like Tyrion had insinuated. This marriage would merely be a transaction, nothing more and nothing less.

"You do understand she will be the Lady of Casterly Rock then, if you marry," his daughter said as if it was something she knew to be certain.

"She will not have a claim to Casterly Rock, if that is what you are concerned about. Jamie will inherit Casterly Rock," he replied.

"You know quite well that Jamie is in the King's Guard he can't inherit–," Tywin abruptly cut her off mid sentence, not wanting to think about the greatest thing that put him at odds with his first-born son.

"I know that all too well, no need to remind me. It's a problem that will be solved another day." He'd be damned if he was going to allow Jamie to remain in the King's Guard for the rest of his life.

Cersei smiled wickedly, pouring herself another goblet of wine.

"I never thought you would remarry, Father. Though, Sansa is a beauty. Not sure you would like her personality, she's meek and timid – but pretty, I guess." Another smirk crossed her face.

He should had known Cersei couldn't resist breaching the subject of their age difference. That woman loved taking any jab at her rivals, no matter how low or ill timed. Tywin was just as adept at playing this game as his daughter.

"Sansa seems to understand duty better than every single child of mine," Tywin scowled at his daughter. "If I marry her it would be about position and power, not youth or beauty."

"You say that now." Cersei said taking another sip of wine; she fought a smile down as she drank and Tywin didn't miss it. He knew what his daughter was still insinuating and he didn't approve in the least bit – she must be trying to take her victories where she could, which was trying to humiliate him, of course.

"This plan is not foolproof and you're gambling too much on a chance Tyrion might pity Sansa and want to be a hero." His daughter snidely said. "It was not too long ago you told me that, 'you think you're more clever than you really are.' Well, this time I think you should listen to your own words. "

With that, Cersei finished her glass of wine and placed it on his desk. She shot him one final condescending glance before walking out of his study, leaving him in much needed silence.

* * *

**[A/N]: Thank you so much for taking the time to read! Any feedback would be appreciated, let me know what you thought of the interactions between Tywin and Cersei. Next chapter will be Tyrion and Sansa, as well as more Tywin and Tyrion. Again, thank you so much for reading!**


	3. Realizations

There Tyrion stood staring blankly at her door – the door that belonged to the young Lady Stark. For the last few minutes, he had been constructing his courage and his phrasing for the news he was about to reveal to her. There wasn't a good way to expose the truth to Sansa and he was already anticipating her reaction. The most accurate word was terror so far. He was certain the girl knew her fate among his almost villainous family would not be pleasant, but she probably could not fathom how low her circumstances were about to sink.

Trying his best to summon an infinitesimal amount of courage, Tyrion weakly knocked on Sansa's chamber door. He could feel a knot building in his stomach as he stood in somber anticipation. Oh, how he wished he could turn around and bolt down the hall as fast as his stubby legs could carry him, but it was too late to turn back now. She had to find out from him and no other.

Slowly, the door opened revealing Shae and Tyrion couldn't help but smile. Just Shae's presence healed his sorrow by a frictional amount; though she couldn't smile at him directly, her eyes lit up with buried joy.

She had been mad the other day when she had found out him and Sansa were to be wed, but she seemed to have found some forgiveness in her heart. He could scarce hide how much this pleased him.

"Yes, my Lord?" Shae said in her beautiful, accented voice. Tyrion felt shivers run along his spine at her words.

"I was hoping to speak with Lady Sansa if I could? Could you tell her it is of the utmost paramount." Tyrion said in a polite manner.

Shae nodded and invited him to stand at the threshold, he dared not enter without a proper invitation. He leaned on the sturdy wooden door frame as casual as he could, enjoying the sunlight that streamed in her room from the serene balcony.

Sansa was lucky to have such a charming room. The smell of the sea overpowered the scent of shit, the gorgeous sunset that lit the room. The lush grapevines that had curled their way around the pillars were a testament to the exorbitant of the guest room she was given. Her room was nothing short of divine grace.

"Lord Tyrion," Sansa's voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Lady Stark." He bowed in her presence. "I was hoping for a word?"

He shot a quick look at Shae. "Is it possible to speak in private?" He questioned.

Sansa motioned for Shae to leave and for him to enter, but Tyrion didn't miss the agitated look his mistress awarded him. He would apologize later and beg for forgiveness, but at the moment his mind was still whirling with the question of how he was going to bestow such news to Lady Stark.

"You wanted to speak?" Sansa cut into his contemplation; her voice was dry and free of emotions.

Tyrion cleared his throat and decided to just dive right in. "Yes. This is going to be awkward. I fear this is some news you might not appreciate..." He muttered. "You might want to take a seat." He motioned to a chair near her bed.  
While she was taking a seat, Tyrion grabbed a decanter of wine and a glass that was conveniently sitting on a tray. He poured himself a large amount and took a gulp. Tyrion had realized he was far too sober to even talk about this yet.

Tyrion clutched his goblet as tight as he could; he could feel his fingers almost shaking as his nerves began to fray. He searched for a way to describe what had happened, the whole conversation that had transpired between him and his father was lacking in any sense of grace and dignity, and he had to flower this very idea of marriage to an infamous man.

He witnessed anxiety build in her eyes every second that he didn't speak. Lady Stark's knuckles were white from clenching the arms of her chair. He could no longer hold the poor girl in suspense and still think of himself as a gentleman.

"Well, my father realized that neither of us was pleased with our future union, so he proposed a new one." Tyrion started, his voice was subdued.

It pained him the moment he saw a flicker of relief fill her eyes - but he knew better than to think she had been joyous about their upcoming union. He held back a sad sigh as he unveiled the hard truth.

"My father believes he should marry you instead."

There was a thick, tense silence that settled in the room, why Tyrion would say it was best described as oppressive. He took another sip of wine because he was definitely still too sober for relaying this type of life-altering news. He watched as the very color drained out of Sansa's already pale face - she looked almost dead to him.

"What," she whispered, her voice sounding weak and on the borderline of flat out defeated.

Tyrion didn't know what to say to comfort her, so he tried feeding her some more sugar-coated truth. "I could not handle the idea of you marrying me. I would ruin your life. You would have been a laughing stock here at court so I spoke to my father about the torment I would cause you, and he proposed something new. My father is the most powerful man in Westeros, and he will keep you safe and respected. Not even Joffrey will be able to torment you any further."

His words didn't seem to comfort her because he heard her choke on a sharp sob. Sansa's eyes were brimming with tears, but they didn't seem to fall - no, Lady Stark seemed trapped in a stasis of discomfort and shock.

Tyrion felt powerless, he had reduced this girl's life to misery by his whining - why he couldn't even look her in the eyes because of the waves of shame he felt wash over himself. He could take up his family duty and marry her, but he was certain a life of being known as the 'imp's wife' and being ridiculed at court would be far less torturous than being treated frostily by his father.

She would be safer as his father's wife. Joffrey would never cross swords with Tywin, the few times he had tried ended poorly for the young king. Even Baelish would have a harder time approaching the girl, for fear of Tywin's wrath. Little Finger had a sharp mind and was as cunning as they came, but he was wary around the head of the Lannister house.

Well, those were Tyrion's justifications for not marrying, and while they were good reasons, part of him knew he was afraid to marry a beautiful woman that didn't harbor a single feeling for him, and she was so young, too young to marry a man like himself. Though he knew his father was not young and would not show Sansa any kindness, she would at least be respected at court and kept safe.

"Lady Sansa, I am sure you know neither I or my father could possibly make you happy. So I must insist you marry my father because he can keep you safe. He might not be a very kind man, as I'm sure you are aware, but he would never be unnecessarily cruel to a lady of station like yourself. He will make sure you are well looked after, I don't doubt that. He has appearances he must uphold."

The words coming out of his mouth barely were justifiable, of course, his father would be cruel to her. He was planning on destroying her brother, Robb's army. His father had never shown great kindness to anyone, not even his own children. He was stern and ruthless, he had a legacy he wished to solidify.

Tyrion had heard stories about how long ago his father had been a more pleasant man when his mother was alive. All he could hope was that his father might consider extending that amiability to Sansa like he had his previous wife.

"If you would prefer to marry me I can, of course, let my father know, he can change the arrangement if I request it. I think he picked this union to torture me so and make me take up my responsibility to the family."

Sansa's continued silence was causing him to ramble like an incoherent drunk. He could handle silence but this tense of a silence was making him horribly uncomfortable.

"I know this must be scary, but you must remain strong. You won't be alone. I promise I will help you in any way that I can if there are any problems you can talk to me or Shae. You will always have a friend in us, Lady Stark."

"I will marry him," Tyrion heard a light, strained voice reply.

He was taken aback and found himself looking up; he had been unable to look her in the eyes since he had noticed her distress. Now as Tyrion gazed at her he could see the tears were gone and replaced with a hardened expression, a stare so hard it could sharpen steel.

"I will marry Tywin Lannister if I must marry at all while I'm here," she repeated. Sansa sounded more certain of herself now, but he could

"Are you sure of this choice," Tyrion asked tentatively.

Sansa turned her gaze on him, those blue eyes of hers were baleful. He couldn't deny the situation she found herself in was less than ideal, and Tyrion was grateful Sansa was saving him from marriage.

"I understand that I'm a prisoner and no matter what happens I won't find happiness here. If I can at least be guaranteed safety then I will accept the fate Lord Tywin has forced upon me."

The Stark girl was young but she seemed painfully aware of her circumstances and who was responsible for putting her here. She wasn't as dimwitted as some made her out to be.

"You have friends here. I promise," Tyrion extended his hand to her and placed it over her's as gentle as a feather. Her body tensed and her back shot ramrod straight - Sansa was unfortunate by the gesture but he couldn't blame her. She had only known cruelty since her arrival in King's Landing.

"Please, I wish to be alone," Sansa stated withdrawing her hand from his. She was refusing to even look at him now, her eyes had drifted out the window, fixated on boats on the water out in the distance. Tyrion could see the horror of what was to come playing out in her mind.

"Yes, I will leave you be. Well, I'll let my father know you have accepted his arrangement."

* * *

It was early the next morning when Tyrion entered the Tower of the Hand. Father was awake, and writing his copious letters to all the most notable people of Westeros, per his usual.

Tywin looked up from his letter as soon as he was aware of his son's presence – already it was proving to be so different from his last visit where he had been shrewdly ignored. Oh, it was proving to be much different, with his father casting such a smug smile at him; his father truly thought this was another time he was going to win.

Tyrion knew he was going to enjoy this, not wanting to give anything away he concealed his own amusement under the guise of a nervous glance at his father. All his life his father had been priding himself on being right. The head of the Lannister house knew the aspirations and motives of those who he associated with, and he knew how to manipulate people like an expert puppet master.

The one thing Lord Tywin couldn't have accounted for was a girl he had never conversed with – a girl he considers stupid and weak.

Tyrion knew his father had expected Sansa to cry and beg for mercy, that she would plead for him to marry her instead – to release her from the monstrous grasp of Tywin Lannister. His father believed her distress would make him feel guilty until he realized the only honorable thing to do was marry her himself. There was also a chance his father had expected him to take on the mantle of a lust-filled beast, something his father had called him on occasion to demoralize him.

Tyrion took a goblet and poured himself a generous amount of wine, just enough wine to give himself a buzz. He wanted this very moment to be carved into his memory and not be diluted by a drunken haze; he even considered hiring a painter later to immortalize this moment in history.

"Have you come here to tell me something of import," there it was, his father's signature cocky little grin. It was the grin his father had awarded Tyrion long ago when his eighteen-year-old self had been forced to watch his whore-wife fuck all the Lannister soldiers. It was the very smile that haunted his nightmares.

"I have indeed. I have come to the realization you were right father," he just let that statement hang in the air. He could see the look of smugness on his father's face deflate into one of annoyance.

"Did you come here just to leave me in suspense?" Tywin questioned, in his usual cold tone.

"Oh, I thought you would cherish hearing those words, but alas I am mistaken. Well, the news I came to bring is Sansa has agreed that you are a better match for her than myself. She has agreed to be your betrothed."

Tyrion had become adept at reading his father's expressions of shock, vexation, and irritation from years of invoking those emotions. He would have nearly believed his father unaffected by the news if it wasn't for the small twitch he noticed of Tywin Lannister's left eyebrow. The quill that was in his father's hand began to whine as it seemed his grip tightened around the stem, it was a few seconds before his hand relaxed.

His father was shocked indeed at these events which had transpired.

Tyrion could not hold in the quip that was sitting on his tongue. "Not the answer you were expecting, Father?"

"It doesn't matter what answer I was expecting, all that matter is our dynasty will live on. It seems I will be the one to carry on the family mantle, so be it," his father said dismissively. "I have other matters to attend too. Now go."

It was apparent Tywin Lannister had had enough of speaking with him, as he set himself back on righting his letters. Tyrion thought about staying and further tormenting his father, but the idea of being free and telling Shae the good news was just too tantalizing. He had finally caught his father off guard, well Sansa had been the one which had spoiled Tywin Lannister's machinations and it was just too beautiful a victory to spoil on sitting around being ignored. Instead, he departed and left his father alone with his stack of papers.

* * *

**[A/N]: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! Any feedback would be appreciated, like what you thought of Sansa and Tyrion's reaction or if you thought I'm doing Tyrion and Twyin justice. Anyway, next chapter will feature Lord Tywin and Lady Olenna duking it out in a war of words. Again, thank you for reading!**


	4. Perceptions

Tywin leaned against the window's edge in the tower of Hand of the King. He was trying his best to absorb the midday sun and enjoy the crisp breeze that was licking at his skin. It has been a long time since his impending problems were minor enough that he could take a deep breath.

An eventful few days had left him more wary than usual, starting with his flawless execution of Robb Stark and his men at the hand of Walder Frey, to appointing a new Warden of the North. News that Jaime was coming home had relieved him but had worn him too, and of course, he was planning a wedding between him and the Stark girl. The wedding itself he was trying hard to keep relegated to the back of his mind, but he knew it had to be done right. His name would not be cheapened with a messy or bawdy wedding.

He had never anticipated getting married a second time, but here he was, marrying a girl at least forty years his junior, and solely out of a strategic need to secure the North. He did not fully trust Tyrion to do his duty to their family, and now his decision not to marry the Stark girl to his son left himself as the only available male to marry her. If only he could have convinced Jaime to leave the Kingsguard, then he could have passed this responsibility to his son.

His last marriage was something he refused to even reminisce about; it was too harrowing to even remember how Joanna had once made him feel. He knew for certain his marriage to Sansa would be nothing in the spectrum of joyous, and he didn't have time for such frivolous notions of marital bliss anymore. Those days had long since passed – this was about preserving his legacy which was years in the making.

It was strange that Sansa had chosen to marry him over Tyrion. His son was an imp, yes, but a younger man who had a soft heart. Tywin was almost suspicious of the girl, maybe she was determined to kill him in his sleep when he was most vulnerable. He was uncertain, but he hadn't lived this long to be killed by a silly Northern girl; he would have to be cautious around her until he could be sure of her character himself.

What he could be certain of now was Sansa must be regretting her decision to marry him after hearing the news of her mother and brother's deaths. She would be daft to think he wasn't behind their convenient slaughter.

Tywin was not bothered by their underhanded demise, he had done what was necessary for his family's survival and safety and he would do it all again. It was the Young Wolf's own stupidity that had allowed him this opening to exploit. If Robb Stark had been as capable politically as he had been tactical that Stark boy would have been a real menace. It was unfortunate not to have a Stark in the North but Roose Bolton was calculated enough to contain the northern rabble, especially with southern backing. He hoped the north will now remember what happens when they try for their independence.

At least the war was won and Tywin could focus on reuniting the seven kingdoms. It was a task that would require patience and tedious planning, but he could now rest assured peace was on the horizon for now.

His eyes absorbed the splendor of the gardens as the beautiful roses were in full bloom and the vines had twisted their way around the lattices that were pressed against the Hand's tower and the rest of the Keep. Sound of songbirds, filled the air as they nested in the trees along the water. The roiling blue sea contrasted the bright green of the Royal Garden which glowed in the afternoon sunlight –he could not even compel himself to look away as he was enthralled by its magnificence.

In that moment Tywin had this odd sensation as the hair on his arms stood up – he was being watched. He drew his gaze down to the garden and searched it thoroughly for nosy onlookers – and that's when he saw her.

He noticed at the edge of the garden was a girl with braided auburn hair staring up at him. Her eyes were a puffy red, swollen and dark with circles shaded under them from lack of sleep. The rest of her face was elegant with those highborn cheekbones, soft features and a lavender dress that was too modest for most southern girls.

_Sansa Stark._

Her scathing eyes raked over him in a way that could only be described as cold as a winter wind. Tywin had seen that look in many a person's eyes before, most notably his own daughter's gaze. Cersei had perfected such a look of disdain and it seemed the Stark girl wasn't far behind.

He could see it written in her expression. I know you did this to my family. You murdered them.

He could hardly believe the audacity of this girl, challenging him. Sansa almost reminded Tywin of his headstrong cupbearer, how she wasn't afraid to question his authority.

Tywin leveled the girl with a biting glance – he'd be damned if he allowed some child to try demean him.

He had never spoken directly to the girl, but he couldn't see the connection between what his own eyes were registering and his daughter's previous comments about the girl. _I'm not sure you would like her, she's meek and timid – but pretty, I guess_.

She looked at him with those defiant blue, Tully eyes – her gaze burning right down into his soul. Tywin did not see this timid girl Cersei had mentioned. Beautiful, yes, but not weak-willed it seemed.

She held his burrowing gaze, unafraid and refusing to back down – he witnessed her seething hatred as her hands visibly were shaking. It wasn't until Margaery Tyrell came walking along and took Sansa's arm that the Stark girl turned away, finding another path through the garden.  
_  
__Damn those Tyrell's, always getting involved_. If they had not taken an interest in trying to steal Sansa Stark from under him, he wouldn't be getting married to her. He could have enjoyed his final years ruling the kingdom through his grandson and focusing on a hobby like fishing – not trying to sire another son this late in his life.

He heard footsteps approaching and was forced to drift his thoughts and gaze away from the Stark girl.

"Lord Tywin, if I were you I wouldn't be standing too close to that window. With all the chaos you have caused of late you are lucky someone didn't try and push you out."

There she was, the Queen of Thorns as the lords and ladies called her. Tywin preferred Lady Olenna, it fit her station more appropriately. She would never be a queen of anything, especially not a queen of sharp remarks if he had anything to say about it.

"Lady Olenna, I suspect you have something you wished to speak to me about," he extended his hand out to offer her a seat in front of his desk, in which she obliged.

Tywin went to work on pouring them both a glass of wine, all the while listening. "Yes, I have come with a great my concerns, most of all your plans for the future. You are planning to wed Cersei to Loras without consulting me."

"I knew you would come to refute this match, so please, consult away. Though I will warn you, it's not going to persuade me." Under normal circumstances, he hated his authority to be questioned, but it had been so long since he had an intellectual spare with someone of his own caliber. He needed to keep his wits sharp for the days to come.

"Oh, my intention is to persuade you, because my grandson is the most eligible bachelor in all the seven kingdoms," Lady Olenna was already bristling at the idea of marrying off her grandson.

"And my daughter is the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms and eligible," Tywin countered. Cersei was older now, but still young enough to have a second family. Shipping her off to Highgarden would be a convenient way to alleviate brewing tensions between Margaery and his daughter.

"She's old, I'm somewhat of an expert on the subject. Her change will be upon her soon. You men may be able to stomach bloodshed, but this is another manner entirely." Tywin passed her a glass of wine and watched as she took the first sip. He knew all too well, the wine would only sharpen her tongue.

Tywin finally took his place across from the titan of the Tyrell family, with a nice glass of wine in hand. He was gearing up for a tough and dirty fight, he knew Lady Olenna would not back down easily from this union.

"The years punish us as well. The only thing that makes my stomach turn is the details of your grandson's nocturnal activities. A boy with his affliction should be grateful for the opportunity to marry one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms and wipe that stain from his name."

"Oh, I don't deny it. A sword swallower through and through," Lady Olenna said it with such confidence, as if that was supposed to dissuade him from his beliefs that sex between men was a vile act. "Did you grow up with boy cousins, Lord Tywin? Soldiers, bannermen of your father's and you never…?"

What she was insinuating was repulsive and insulting – cold anger was swelling up in his chest as she looked at him with such conviction. He struggled to keep himself from snarling as he replied. "No."

"Not once," she asked, trying to keep an expression of innocence.

Gods, this woman was getting under his skin, a true thorn in his side. "No," he reiterated, making sure to leave no more room for a debate.

"Well, I applaud you then on your restraint, but it's a natural thing, two boys going at each other at a young age."

"Maybe Highgarden has a high tolerance for indecent behavior," he stated.

For the first time Olenna Tyrell smiled. "Well, we don't get tied up over a discrete amount of buggery, but brothers and sisters. Where I come from that strain would be very hard to remove."

Tywin glared at her, of course, he expected nothing less. He had made a shot at her grandson, and she wasn't afraid to use any piece of dirt she could find against him – even his disgraceful children's filthy rumors. "I will not breathe life into an unfounded lie," he replied, keeping his tone cold and even.

Olenna smiled again, she was trying her best to corner him, but there was no easy way to corner and defeat a lion. "Well, it's a lie convincing enough to put swords in boys hands and send them out to go kill Lannister and Tyrell soldiers, thanks to our new alliance."

"Well, if the rumors are true then Margaery would be no real queen. You would be throwing one of your prized flowers into the dirt," he retorted.

"And if Cersei is too old to give Loras children then we are throwing another prized flower into the dirt. It's a chance I simply cannot take." They both knew there was no easy way to enforce this union without the consent of both families. Olenna truly believed she was getting the upper hand.

"The uncertainty makes you uncomfortable. Well, let me remove it for you."

Long ago Tywin's old friend Aerys Targaryen had implemented one of the most destructive moves to Tywin's legacy – he had named Jaime, his eldest son, and heir, to the Kingsguard. Since that day he had been trying to find some way to get Jaime to leave and take up his family responsibility. He had never forgiven that transgression. It was an act that had led him to leave the service of the king and had ultimately ended in the Mad King's death.

He had learned from that harsh lesson, and it wasn't below him to inflict such damage on a family that was looking to grab at more power. He could hardly hold back a sharp smirk as he pulled out a piece of paper and his quill.

"If you refuse to marry Loras to Cersei, I will name him to the Kingsguard. He will not be able to marry or inherit lands." Tywin heard a sigh of annoyance from Lady Olenna, as he began drafting the writ.

"The Tyrell name will fade from history and Highgarden will go to the children of Joffrey and Margaery," he finally looked up to assess the distress he had inflicted.

Olenna had a cross expression, one he couldn't help but relish. She knew she had been outmaneuvered, but she was trying her best to recover. "You would have your grandson protected by someone you despise?"

If that was the best she could come up with he had grossly overestimated her, Ser Loras was just like Jaime, honor and fighting were strong fibers of their very being. "I will have my grandson protected by a capable warrior than takes his duty seriously. Should I sign the order, or do you consent to the match?"

She stared at him, aggravation flickering in her gaze. Lady Olenna stood up and took the quill from him and to his surprise she gave him a grandiose smirk as her eyes yielded in their aggression. The old rose had accepted the checkmate he had laid before her.

"It is a rare thing, a man that lives up to his reputation." She snapped his quill in half, and sat down again. This time a slyness gleamed in her eyes as she relaxed in her seat. "Tell me, is it true, do you plan to wed the Stark girl yourself? Are you sure you can keep up with such a young, vibrant soul at your age?"

Tywin once again felt like he was on the defensive, this time the questioning was going to be harder to dodge. It was about him specifically this time, and after her later comment, he was trying really hard to restrain himself. "Yes, you left me with no choice but to marry her, and of course I'm not concerned about keeping up with some girl, us lions always have energy," he replied. He refused for her to get the last words on his stamina.

"I left you with no choice? I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you do, no need to play coy. You had planned to wed Sansa to your grandson. You wanted to control the North yourself."

She awarded him with an empty smile. "I have no interest in Northmen and their ability to remember, but yes, it was a secret engagement. Loras and Sansa would have made a good match, a powerful and happy match. But you Lannisters do have spies everywhere, sometimes I'm nearly convinced the shrubberies can read my thoughts. Still, you could imagine my surprise when I heard the betrothal had passed from your son, Tyrion, to you."

"It was a necessary change," he replied. "Tyrion said he wasn't going to put a child in her."

Olenna held his gaze and gave him another fake smile. "I see, well I hope you find some happiness in this union, Lord Tywin. Sansa is a very proper lady, something I heard you once liked. She might be a bit ordinary, but she has potential."

Tywin knew Olenna was talking about his late wife comparing Joanna to Sansa was absurd. The chair felt his wrath as he clenched his knuckles into its arms to contain his annoyance as he spoke.

"I don't foresee happiness in this union. This marriage serves a singular purpose: creating an heir that will rule the North. Happiness has nothing to do with that goal. One of the reasons this union is taking place is because of what happened to her family, all the male Starks are dead. Their deaths can all be traced back to the Lannister family. Would you be able to forgive such an atrocity? I know I would not."

"No, I wouldn't be able to forgive that, and she's a northern. They never forget as they love to remind us," Olenna said honestly.

"But we women are stronger than you may think, since the beginning of time, we have been used as ways to heal the sores of war and strengthen families through unions. Sansa will never love you, but that doesn't mean you have to be enemies in your marriage. I doubt you want to worry about your wife plotting your demise?"

Tywin gave her a knowing glance. Of course, he didn't want to have to constantly be looking over his shoulder to see if his wife was about to stab him, but he couldn't see how that could be avoided. "I'm painfully aware of the situation, but there are few ways to remedy the damage and I don't have the time to spare trying to force obedience from her."

"I think you underestimate the girl, she has friends in odd places. If you make the first steps to healing the wound you might be surprised at what happens. I doubt she will forget what happened to her family, but with kindness behind closed doors, you can make her doubt what she has heard about you. You might get to a point of mediocre amity in your marriage."

With that Olenna stood up. "You Lannister men always try and use a brute-force way to deal with your problems, carrying around your sticks to force others into obedience. We Tyrells have realized you get more bees with honey than vinegar. You're a smart man Lord Tywin, you'll figure out how to deal with the girl."

Tywin Lannister couldn't believe his ears, Olenna Tyrell was giving him advice on how to manipulate a young girl. She was right: he would find a way to get the Stark girl to heel. He hadn't quite decided how he wanted to go about that action yet.

There were only two ways to get people to do what you needed in any arrangement, Tywin had learned this very young, you could either give someone an incentive, ultimately showing kindness, or you used fear.

He had always used stern if not outright deadly ways of dealing with people. He would wield his stick using fear to keep people in line. Maybe with women, it wasn't as successful, he had tried using this method on Cersei – his own daughter. It had not worked out as he anticipated, she was now a difficult woman to control and volatile on her best days as she lashed out at those who wronged her. Olenna's idea of using carrots instead of the stick might be more effective this time with Sansa. He couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.

"She has a talent for needlework, you could always start there," that was all Lady Olenna said as she left his tower.

* * *

**[A/N]: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! I hoped you guys enjoyed the interactions between Tywin and Olenna, I tried to do the first part of their chat from memory, and I hope you enjoyed their chat about Sansa and their union. Please let me know what you thought of their interactions and if the story is being paced well. Thank you again for all the wonderful comments, you guys seriously are giving me the motivation to continue. **

**The next chapter is from Sansa's POV and will involve the wedding!**


End file.
